


A New Routine

by once_and_future



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/once_and_future/pseuds/once_and_future
Summary: In which Merlin is a mysterious handsome stranger who frequents Arthur’s favorite coffee shop, and Arthur makes a general fool of himself.





	A New Routine

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own BBC’s Merlin, and I am making no profits from this work. Please do not repost my work in any way or claim it as your own without first seeking my permission. Let me know if you do a translation or podfic so I can share a link! I’m also on tumblr -- find me @morganapendragons

  
Arthur Pendragon is a man of routine.

He wakes at precisely 7:00 each morning, immerses himself in numbers and stock analysis for his father’s company until 6:05 in the evening, when he makes his way to his favorite coffee shop to drown his sorrows in increasingly large mugs of coffee.

Arthur fell in love with Mithian’s Coffee Shop instantly because it’s bright and warm and homey, in all the ways the Pendragon family manor never was. It’s full of big plush armchairs and tasteful antique chairs and there’s a fireplace that’s always crackling away merrily. Local artwork hangs on the wall, connected by artfully draped strings of fairy lights, and a shelf lined with handmade mugs stands in the corner. But mostly it’s the people there Arthur loves -- Mithian and Elena and Gwen, who always manage to cheer him with their bright smiles and kind words.

He’s been coming here every day without fail for a while now, mostly because he needs some relief from the unbearable tedium of a life that’s planned to a tee.... so it comes as no surprise that Arthur takes notice when something -- or _someone_ \-- happens to interrupt Arthur’s utterly dull, predictable life.

x x x x x

Arthur is sitting in his favorite lumpy armchair by the fire on a chilly evening in November when _he_ comes in, positively _radiating_ with frenetic energy as he all but rushes to the counter. Arthur sinks a bit further into his chair and tries to look like he’s not watching _too_ obviously, although he probably fails spectacularly because he’s seen the man come in a few times, and Arthur has never found anyone so inexplicably fascinating.

At first glance, the man is tall and lanky, thin but not slight. He’s wearing bright red converses that match his voluminous scarf, along with dark skinny jeans and a soft, well-loved brown leather jacket.

Arthur watches surreptitiously over his steaming cafe latte as the man orders and stands off to the side, hitching his leather satchel over his shoulder. His dark hair is looking particularly disheveled tonight, Arthur notices, and he has to force himself away from wishful thoughts of how nice it would be to run his fingers through it. The man’s full lips are pursed in concentration, and he’s tapping his foot anxiously as he scrolls through something on his phone with his lovely, lovely long fingers.

Arthur has to swallow and look away then, because this is dangerous territory, to be sitting here daydreaming about a handsome stranger with warm cafe light setting the mood, casting shadows on the man’s tantalizingly high cheekbones and his long lashes and long fingers and long limbs and Arthur had better stop thinking about what else might be long here otherwise he’d be getting himself into a very embarrassing situation.

When he decides it’s safe to risk another glance, Arthur gets a bit of a shock to find that the man is looking _right at him_. His head is tilted to the side as he considers Arthur, and _how_ does he manage to make checking someone out look shy and a bit daring all at once instead of just gaping like an idiot? When he meets Arthur’s gaze, the man smiles hesitatingly, before he bites his lip and returns his gaze to his phone as a blush spreads across his cheeks, highlighting his cheekbones.

And then of course Arthur begins to blush in response, and he takes another scorchingly hot sip of coffee to distract himself from the confusing mixture of embarrassment and attraction warring for dominance in his body.

Nothing comes of it, as usual. The man looks up at Arthur a few more times, and Arthur’s definitely enjoying it, but he’s just far too nervous and embarrassed to take the next logical step in this situation, like maybe going over to actually talk to the guy.

It ends like it always does: the man takes his coffee to go at the counter and heads towards the door, giving Arthur another fleeting smile as he leaves. Arthur smiles back automatically, before he gives a heartfelt groan and sinks all the way down in his chair.

He’s got to do something about this, because Arthur loves it here, he really does, but he doesn’t think he can stand suffering through flirty looks with the mystery man much longer, because wouldn’t it be nice to be sitting here together sharing a nice mug of coffee instead?

 _I’ll ask him out next time_ , Arthur thinks, and determinedly finishes his cafe latte without thinking (much) about the handsome stranger.

x x x x x

That night, Arthur goes over countless scenarios in his head. He comes up with various witty dialogue, clever pick-up lines, and pithy come-backs. It all sounds good enough in his head, because obviously his imaginary self is perfectly confident and never stumbles over his own feet or stammers or blushes or makes a general fool of himself. Arthur even imagines how his handsome stranger might react, which leads to a few much needed hot showers.

The next morning, Arthur dresses with care, picking out a dark navy suit and a sky blue tie he’s been told brings out the color of his eyes. He finds himself thrumming with nerves and excitement at work, and he might actually have zoned out completely during a meeting or two.

Around midday, the buzz of adrenaline begins to wear off and he starts talking himself out of it. It’s not that he’s chickening out, it’s just that he’s not sure if he’s really ready for this, which is not the same thing at all, right? Right.

It’s just that Arthur’s got a bit of a complicated love life. He knew he liked guys early on, but he only ever fooled around with guys in his younger years, when it didn’t count for much. And then there was uni, where he was far too busy to stop and examine little troublesome things like _feelings_ and _attraction_ (other than the occasional desperate hook-up in a shady club). And then he inherited his place at his father’s company straight out of uni, and since then, he’s had to come to terms with his lot in life and only ever went on prearranged “dates” set up by his father that were designed to build empires, not real relationships.

The point is, Arthur can’t remember the last time he’s actually dated someone simply because he wanted to. The idea thrills him, but it also kind of terrifies him at the same time, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with it. Arthur ends up thinking himself into circles, and by the time 6:00 rolls around, his resolve has crumbled, and he’s as unsure as he ever was. In the end, it’s really a stroke of luck that matters get taken out of his hands.

x x x x x

When Arthur arrives at Mithian’s Coffee that evening, he orders his usual caffe latte and unbuttons his suit as he sinks down into his armchair with a sigh. He has _no idea_ what he’s going to do -- he even contemplated ditching the whole idea altogether and going straight home, but that’s the coward’s way out, and Arthur Pendragon is many things, but he is _not_ a coward.

When mystery man comes in, it goes like it always does -- he orders at the counter, and they exchange a few hesitant looks (although in Arthur’s case, he’s sure his attempts at smiling come across more like awkward grimaces).

And then, the man proves that he is most definitely braver than Arthur. He picks up his coffee cup, and makes to head out, but he’s hesitating, biting his lip and shifting his feet nervously. He sets his cup back down and grabs one of the shop’s business cards that’s sitting by the register and scribbles something on it.

The man turns to go out -- and Arthur nearly spits coffee all over himself when the man stops right in front of him. He’s giving Arthur that dimpling smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, and Arthur feels his heart thump unsteadily in his chest as he holds the card out for Arthur to take.

“I’m Merlin,” the man says, smiling as Arthur reaches to take the card, their fingers brushing together fleetingly. “Call me and we’ll come here together some time, ok?”

And then Merlin winks at Arthur -- dear God, he actually _winks_ , like it’s a completely normal thing to do -- and continues on his way. The door tinkles shut behind him, and Arthur stares blankly at the number scribbled down on the card as his heart tries to beat its way out of his chest.

x x x x x

Arthur makes it home in one piece that night, though he’s honestly not quite sure how he managed it. He settles in to watch his pre-recorded Game of Thrones episode, although he barely takes in any of it, since he’s hopelessly distracted by the little card that seems to be burning through his pocket like a brand.

Arthur fishes the card out of his pocket, reads the number he already has memorized, fiddles with it a bit, and slips it back into his pocket. A few minutes later, he takes out the card again, frowning slightly as he studies the hastily scrawled _Merlin_ written at the top of the card.

It’s a bit of an odd coincidence, he thinks. Like everyone else, he’s heard countless versions of the tale of the legendary King Arthur and the sorcerer Merlin. He even knows that his father named him after the king, in hopes that Arthur would become as famous as the king of old. Personally, Arthur doubted it. The thing is, he’s never actually met anyone called Merlin before, and while he doesn’t believe in destiny, maybe it’s a sign.

Arthur hesitates for a few more breathless seconds, and then, with the vague feeling that’s he’s throwing himself into the unknown, he digs out his mobile and dials the number.

x x x x x

As Arthur had rather expected, life with Merlin throws his carefully constructed routines into complete disarray. Merlin burst into Arthur’s life in an explosion of color, painting over the dull gray of Arthur’s days with enthusiasm and love. He often shows up at random hours of the day, alternately dragging Arthur out for a hike in the mountains, a mad dash through the city, or shoving him up against the wall for a desperate snog.

They haven’t officially moved in together yet, but Merlin stays at Arthur’s place more often than not, and he’s met all of Arthur’s friends, plus Morgana. Arthur hasn’t broached the subject of introducing Merlin to his father, but thankfully Merlin knows enough of their relationship not to push.

Arthur still likes it best when they spend a quiet afternoon at the coffee shop, whiling away the golden hours over steaming mugs of coffee with Merlin’s body warm against his side, pressing against him from leg to shoulder. And when Merlin finishes his coffee, he’ll heave a contented sigh and close his eyes as he leans his head on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur will brush his lips against Merlin’s hair to hide his smile as he draws his arm around Merlin’s shoulders to pull him closer, feeling his heart stutter when Merlin melts against him. He’ll glance around the coffee shop fondly, remembering all the hours he spent here alone, and he knows he was right: it’s _definitely_ better with two.

FIN

 


End file.
